The Fan Zone
by JadeRabbyt
Summary: Welcome to the Fan Zone, a gut-busting show about a show for the fans of the show! What more could you possibly ask for! It makes you EXPLODE with joy! Now featuring ROMANCE in chapter 12.
1. Pilot: Part 1

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Pilot Episode

Cheesy jazzy talk-show music whines in the background as my audience claps for me and the stage lights above sweep down to light the set, washing over the shiny wooden floor, plush guests' couch, and oak desk. I bound onstage, smiling and waving like I'm the happiest, coolest, most popular talk show host with only the very cheesiest jazzy music. I look the part, too. My burgundy suit looks neat-o with my red hair and ponytail, and my oval editor's glasses create the illusion of sophistication.

"Aaaaannnnd good afternoon, citizens of the Danny Phantom forum!" I stride to the edge of the stage and look out over everybody. It's a good turnout; many people are smiling and doing little jigs of joy in their seats, waiting for the special guest. "How y'all doin' today?" I call.

"Too much friggen' school work!"

"Too little time to write!"

"Parents on my case."

"Not enough Danny-Lancer action posted."

Everybody's head whips around to the speaker. My eyes go wide as saucers. The silence is broken as gagging noises pepper the auditorium.

"While that's-" I begin, but it's too late. There's a zealous conservative in the audience.

"Shame SHAME on you! That's dirty and nasty and just plain wrong. Danny and Sam fo' EVA!"

"You're just closed-minded," comes the scornful retort. The audience turns to get a better view of the speaker, a kid with hair like spaghetti and a head like a jellybean. "You need to accept that some people are different!"

"Hey, are we going to talk ethics?" I ask, making a face. "Is that what you all want to do? Talk about the finer points of 'sexual orientation'?"

"NO!" the audience roars.

"Or do you wanna see the latest-some would say cutest-piece of animated ass on Nick!"

"ANIMATED ASS!" Widespread giggling. The thirteen-year-olds blush and cover their mouths. Some of the older ones lick their lips.

"Well here he is, that haunted hero, that freaky freshman, please welcome Danny Phantom!"

My stage lackeys drag a squirming burlap bag onto the stage. The audience roars as Danny phases through it in all his white-haired, green-eyed glory.

He takes one look at us, yelps, and dives behind the couch.

"Sorry kids, it's his first time here." I look behind the couch at the bug-eyed wonder. "You gonna join us?"

He shakes his head emphatically. "Who ARE you people? Where am I?" His eyes narrow. "Are you a ghost? Is this another one of those evil ghost plots? I can-"

"Calm down, Danny. This is the Fan Zone."

"The... what?"

"The Fan Zone. Like 'The Twilight Zone' but with less plot and more crazy teenage girls."

Danny thinks about that for a minute. "You'll take me home when we're done, though, right?" I nod. "Are they _cute_ crazy teenage girls?" Nod.

Danny smiles shakily. "Well, uh, I guess I'll join you then... But just to be clear, you're sure this isn't some kind of evil ghost prank? I know Vlad-"

I grab his arm and yank him up. "Laaaddieees and gennelmen, Danny Phantom!"

"Heh heh... Hi." He waves a hand and people snap pictures.

"We love you Danny Phantom!"

"Some of us love you more when you love Sam."

"Or Lancer!"

"What?!" Danny yelps.

I make the 'cut' gesture and share a grin with the audience. "Let's not scare the ghost."

"You mean halfa," Danny corrects.

I smile. "Of course. You wanna take a seat?"

"I'll stand."

I shrug and lean back on the desk. "Suit yourself."

He stands awkwardly, shifting his weight and looking out at the fans. He twiddles his fingers for a moment before plopping down on the couch. "Let's just get this over with," he grumbles.

People giggle, goggle, and 'awww.'

Crazy fangirls.

Danny drums his fingers on my desk. "So what do you do here, anyway?"

I raise a devious eyebrow and look out at the audience. "I guess that depends on them."

---

A/N: How'd you like this? Little different from my usual stuff, eh? This will probably piss people off and make them want to beat me to a mushy little pulpy mass of goo and then flush me off the board, but y'know, I need to put out some light stuff every now and then. You want unparalleled sophistication, check out "Lose Yourself." You want some funny, brainless crap, well here ya go. :) Reviews/suggestions please!


	2. Pilot: Part 2

The Fan Zone

"Pilot Episode: Part 2

By JadeRabbyt

"Welcome back everybody to a very special episode of 'The Fan Zone.' We have a very special guest with us here tonight-"I gesture to Danny, asleep on my couch. "-Who is obviously not aware that the show is on.

"Last episode I asked for reviewer responses, but the majority of the replies just told me that this show is 'funny.' Fortunately for everyone-" I motion to a lackey off stage. "-There was one very courteous reviewer, Chibi Millenia Phantom, who supplied us with a full sixteen pounds of pure cane sugar."

The lackeys drag out a huge bag of something and dump it on my desk. Little spouts of powder leak out, sending up white dust. I scowl. Those idiots got the wrong white stuff. I turn off the microphone and call somebody over. "We could be arrested for this," I mutter. The lackey grins apologetically and trucks the bag away. It's replaced with the bag of sugar.

"Sorry for the interruption there, folks. The show is staffed by ex-cons. As I was saying, we have here a full sixteen pounds of sugar. This allows us to answer a time-honored question."

I stand and begin to pace the stage. "What _really_ happens when Danny gets fed insane amounts of the sweet stuff?" The audience murmurs with excitement. A couple people roll their eyes and reach for their audience reaction boards.

"We'll observe-"

I stop as a little ding goes off by my desk. I walk over to check it out. "It seems I've just gotten some comments here, folks. People say that this is a terrible idea and it's been done by every author since the beginning of time." I stand up and adjust my jacket. "Well, feel free to lodge a complaint with my staff after the show. Everybody make some noise to wake this ghost-boy up!"

People clap and cheer and scream joyously. Danny jerks awake and sits up quickly.

"Whoa! What's-"

"Danny," I pat his shoulder amiably. "Good to have you back."

He blinks and looks around. "Oh yeah. Ugh. I remember _you._" He stares at my desk. "Why is there a bag of sugar?"

"Funny you should ask..."

Danny looks between me, the audience, and the sugar. "No."

"Oh come on."

"No! I'm not eating that whole bag of sugar!"

"Well, in that case I guess we'll just have to do something else." I wink at the audience. They chuckle and goad me on. "Fortunately, I have a couple interesting clips on hand. Maybe Danny can enlighten us with his commentary."

A TV screen rolls down from the far left, and Danny and I turn to watch with the audience.

"Our first clip is from the much-loved episode, 'Shades of Grey.'"

Danny fidgets on the couch. "Um..."

"Roll clip."

The scene unfolds. We see Danny in ghost-mode being chased by the maroon-suited Valerie. He stumbles into Sam, who pulls him into the bushes. Valerie rounds the corner-

"Stop!" Danny shouts. Everybody looks over at him. The video pauses on Valerie. "What was the, um, sugar thing again?"

The audience starts giggling behind their hands. I roll my head in a little sarcastic motion and the laughter breaks from their hands and bounds around the auditorium.

"Really!" Danny insists. "We're not together!"

I laugh and motion for the audience to settle down. "Alright, alright everybody, let's give him a break." I turn to Danny. "The deal is that you have to eat enough sugar that we see some kind of side effect."

"Can I at least have something to go along with it?"

"Nope."

-Six cups of sugar and one amazing out-of-character shift later-

"This is ALL YOUR FAULT!" Danny is standing on my desk and shouting at me. The audience is eating my complementary popcorn and wondering if he's going to take off his shirt. "You did this! YOU teleported me to this... this... whatever-the-hell-this-is-"

"Fan Zone."

"Argh! Whatever! I don't care! You SUCK!" He absently takes another handful of sugar and chews on it. I'm starting to think that this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"And, and you know what?" He turns to the audience. "YOU all suck too!" The audience looks up from its popcorn. "Yes! I am talking to all you cheap extra, oppa..." He stops to think. He taps his foot so fast that it looks like his entire leg is vibrating.

"The word is 'opportunists.'"

"Right right! OPPORTUNISTS! You are all cheap, cheap..." He jumps off my desk and wanders around the stage. "Aaaah, whatever. You all suck." He stomps around petulantly. "That's right. You're all rated 'SS' for 'Super-Sucky.'"

I sigh, standing up from my desk as he starts to mumble incoherently. "Dumb sucky blackmailing rip-off talk show nonsense..."

"Well everybody, thanks for joining us. I think we should send Danny back to Amity."

"You better," he mutters.

"Say g'bye everybody!" They cheer him off-stage, but they aren't nearly as enthusiastic as when he came on. You can only tell people they suck so many times before they stop cheering for you.

"Don't worry about him. We put a fifty on his bed and finished up his homework. I've got just one more special feature for you tonight folks. I'd like to advertise Ghostly Hamburger's 'Hand Puppet Theater' for two reasons: 1) it inspired me to start this show and 2) I shamelessly stole one of her signature jokes for this episode."

Most of the audience laughs, but you can pick out Ghostly's friends easily. They're the ones on the phone with her lawyer.

"'Hand Puppet Theater' is an incredibly funny, witty series of sarcastic episode summaries, and I promise that you don't want to miss 'em. Come back next time, and goodnight everybody!"

The credits roll as I recline in my chair and the jazzy music plays, wondering just how Ghostly will react to this one. Off-stage I can see my lackeys playing with the first bag dropped on my desk.

I really am going to have to fire those guys one of these days. I would have done it sooner, but just how clever is it to give thirty drug-sniffing ex-cons a reason to be angry at you?

---

A/N: Hey! This fic is popular! -does happy little author jig- I'm thinking about featuring a story every episode, just because it gets hard to find good ones sometimes. Let me know what you guys think about that, and keep the reviews comin'! Remember, if you give me neat stuff you may see it in the show.


	3. Paullina's Tomato: Part 1

Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Disclaimer: Listen to the 'Don't Sue People Panda'!

Paullina's Tomato: Part 1

The audience is bigger than it was last time. I could probably start an evil fancult and use my minions to take over the world, but that strikes me as being WAY too much work. This is much more fun.

"Hey all! Great day today, eh? Everybody catch 'Fright Night' yesterday?"

"Hellz yeah!"

"Great stuff."

"Well, as many of us saw, Danny and Sam shared a hug that was very much mutual." The image flashes up on my screen of Danny in ghost-mode and Sam hugging behind a chair. "This brings up an interesting question for us. Namely-"

The screen to my left changes to a large sign that reads "Passionate or Platonic: The Debate is NOW." Another screen to my right rolls down from the ceiling but remains ominously blank.

The audience mutters amongst itself, wondering what this means.

"Was this a 'we're just happy right now' friends' hug? Or is this something else? Today," I explain. "I have for you two trained professionals who have excellent experience in these matters. We've rigged special two-way systems so that our guests can join us from a distance, so put your hands together for Paullina We-Don't-Care-What-Your-Last-Name-Is and Samantha Manson!"

The audience whistles and hoots as live feeds of the two of them flash up on each screen, Paullina to the left, Sam to the right. The audience glances eagerly between the two, watching as Paullina scowls against a background of the bathroom stalls, lipstick in hand, and Sam works poised over a set of colored test tubes at a lab desk.

"Thanks for joining us, guys." I sit at the desk and kick up my feet up.

Paullina shoves her makeup in her purse. "Ugh, why do you have to do this _now_? I didn't even have a chance to do the foundation."

Sam isn't quite as polite.

"I'm working here! Shut that stupid camera off or I'll hunt you down and shove it down your throat!"

"Now girls," I chide. "Unless you want to travel Air Burlap, I suggest you both just calm down and have a nice, orderly debate."

"Debate?" Sam looks through her camera, across at Paullina. "With HER?"

"No way," Paullina scoffs. Her finger goes large in the screen as she pokes at her camera. "Like, where's the 'off' button."

I grin. "It don't got one, toots."

Paullina gives me a death glare. "Father will be hearing about this."

Sam rolls her eyes and selects a test tube. "Shallow daddy's girl," she mutters. She splashes the camera with her tube, and the screen goes gritty and winks out.

Paullina laughs. "Two can play that game." She gives her purse a good swing and the screen displays flying bathroom stalls before abruptly going blank.

The audience mutters with discontent. A voice in front shouts, "What now, Rabbyt?"

I sigh and reach for the private studio intercom. "Two for the Burlap Express." Chuckles come from the other end of the line.

Turning to the audience I say, "They'll be right back. While we're waiting, let's distribute the obligatory rotten fruit." My lackeys go through the aisles with bags of spoiled produce. People snatch it up eagerly and snicker with anticipation. "I think you all know what it's for."

Two stage hands set out chairs on either side of my desk. "Well folks, it looks like they've arrived." The audience alternately giggles as two burlap bags are tossed onto the stage. People snap pictures as they squirm and roll around onstage. I gesture to the staff to get them out, and one of them grabs a switch blade and rips the two bags open.

"AAAAAAAHHH! My HAIR! You &?#$, you &?#$! Oooh, you are so DEAD!"

"Hey, you can't say that on TV! Aaah!" I jump out of the way as Paullina takes a flying leap at me. Her nails dig into the floor where I stood a moment ago. "Security!" A posse of my guards grab her and hold her down. She struggles and thrashes for a minute or two before suddenly calming. She's noticing the funny way security is looking at her.

"Uhhh..."

I grin and cross my arms. "They're ex-convicts, you know." Speaking of which, Paullina doesn't usually cuss. My staff must have 'sedated' her with a little medicine of their own. At least Sam seems okay.

She stands behind me, laughing. "You two are both insane."

Paullina jerks her head up. "I've had about enough of you for today, you totally unpopular crazy gothic &?#$!"

I shake my finger at her. "What did I say about the language?"

Paullina simmers for a minute. "Come _on._ Let me up."

"You gonna be nice?"

"What do you think?"

I shrug. "Close enough." I dismiss the guards, who let her up reluctantly and hurry backstage.

Paullina and Sam grudgingly take their seats.

"Sam, let's start with you. Was this hug just a 'friends' thing?"

"Um, well, it's really not a topic that can be, uh, _divided_ that clearly..."

Paullina leans back. "Huh. Yeah right. She's totally head over heels for that loser freshman."

Sam jumps up, fists balled at her sides. "Danny's not a loser!"

Paullina stands, hands on her hips. "What are you talking about? He's the most pathetic unpopular loser on campus. Except for Tucker."

Sam takes a step forward. "Why you-"

Just then, a solitary tomato flies out from the audience and lands squarely on Paullina's chest. The three of us stand stock-still for a moment as the tomato juice oozes down her shirt. "Boo!" someone calls.

I bite my lip. Mustn't laugh, mustn't laugh, mustn't laugh...

Paullina's face is going very red. "I... why this... PREPARE TO DIE, &?#$ES!"

Sam's eyes widen as she takes several hasty steps back. "Never seen that side of her before."

"Security!" I call, grabbing Sam's wrist and diving behind the desk. The audience starts screaming gleefully and chucking fruit everywhere.

As Paullina fanatically chases us around the stage, foaming at the mouth and swiping at us, another voice calls out from the back. "I'll save you, Paullina!"

I yelp, feeling Paullina's nails miss me by centimeters. Sam spares a glance behind us. "Who invited _Dash_?"

A/N: Who DID invite Dash? Will an actual debate EVER take place? What WILL I do with the hundreds of pounds of sugar Blossoming Orange Rose gave me? Tune in next time for the answers to these pressing questions, but don't forget to review first and maybe give me more cool stuff!


	4. Paullina's Tomato: Part 2

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Paullina's Tomato: Part 2

Dash dashes on stage and swoops toward us. "I'll save you Paullina!"

"Hello?!" Sam shouts. "_She's_ the one attacking _us_!"

The audience is having the time of its life. Rotten fruit is being thrown everywhere, completely vandalizing the stage and staining my lovely comfortable couch. My lackies are backstage doing who-knows-what, and there's an angry jock and a psycho chick after me.

It's almost as horrible as my average day at school.

"Don't you have stage guards or something?" Sam gasps.

I roll my eyes. "Kind of. They screw around a lot, though."

We rush backstage to see my entire staff getting high on blue powdered sugar. Sam palm-faces and jumps behind a wooden strut, sticking her foot out to trip up Dash. He yells in panic as he gets a taste of the concrete floor, scrambling to get up.

I grab some hand cuffs off the wall and snap them over Dash's wrists while Sam helps me keep him off-balance.

"Watch out for Paullina!" she shouts. Paullina comes running, hissing and screeching into the backstage area. We manage to wrestle her to the ground, and Sam grabs a handy pile of stage rope, throwing it in hasty loops around Paullina's arms and legs. If we're lucky she'll get tangled up enough that she'll choke herself before she can come after us

"Now," I say flatly, turning to the staff. "Which one of you doped up Paullina, which one of you called in Dash, and why is every one of you high?"

"Dude... dude," he says. "Chill."

He's calling me 'dude.' The corner of my eye twitches. There's ONE of THREE 'special guests' who is NOT tied up, and he's calling me 'dude.'

"It's not like that. This..." He burps and gestures to the powder. "This is, uh, sugar. And we thought it'd be, uh, y'know, 'funny' if we, um, invited that guy." He scratches himself and leans back in the chair.

Dash starts laughing at me.

The big slob looks over at Dash and Paullina and picks up a plate of brownies lying nearby. "You awesome dudes want some brownies?"

"No, they don't want brownies. They don't want sugar. They don't want green eggs OR ham with a fox in a box on a train or in a plane and the whole lot of you are-"I savor the word before spitting it out at them. "Fired."

The staff chuckles in halting, dazed hiccups. "Dude, good one," one of them says.

Sam ducks out behind the curtain. She smiles uncomfortably. "I'll just, um, see how the audience is doing."

"You do that." She leaves, and I cross my arms and wait for my staff to wake up enough to realize that they will now have to steal-as opposed to buy-their illegal mind-altering substances.

"Dude, she's serious!" they whisper to each other.

"Yes. Yes I am very serious. You guys can't be drugging my guests and trippin' during the shows!"

They jump up to protest. "But it's-"

"Sugar. I know." I rub my temples and sigh. "Look, I've got a show to run. You guys just stay here and, I don't know, go watch football or something."

Dash hobbles over to us. "I wanna watch too!"

"Fine. Let Dash watch. But Paullina's coming back out."

I grab Paullina by a loose coil and drag her skinny ass back onstage, where Sam is lecturing them all on the results and implications of the latest presidential election.

"Tush is going to continue the war! There'll be widespread hunger and strife in the Middle East! If we'd gotten in D. Ingle Berry in the White House-"

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Thanks. I'll take over from here."

"Took you long enough," she grumbles.

I clear my throat, awakening the audience from its political opinion-induced slumber. "Well folks, this show has, once again, degenerated into complete mayhem and chaos."

"My CUE MY CUE!" screeches a backstage person. They leap out and race back and forth across the stage a couple times. "My name is Creator-Chaos and I am AWESOME!"

The audience wonders what on earth is going on _now_.

I grab the random fan by his arm and gasp. "Look everyone! A fanboy!"

People Ooooh and Aaaah and snap pictures. The fanboy jerks away and grins. "I won this cameo in that other story you wrote! Waddo I get?"

"Well, um, you get... to shake my hand!" I grin and reach out. He looks at my hand like it's a freakish lobster-thing from Mars.

"What else do I get?"

"Uh..." I look down at Paullina and smile. "You get to kick and/or sucker-punch her!"

Paullina squirms and shouts furiously as Sam's eyes widen. "Wait-"

The fanboy kicks her a good one and races off-stage, grinning. Paullina starts swearing again and tries to wiggle over and bite my foot. Sam shakes her head at me. "That wasn't nice."

"Yeah, well," I say with a shrug. "She _was_ trying to kill us." I turn and address the audience. "Anyway, complete chaos and mayhem means that that this lovely episode has come to an end. After the credits, Paullina will be outside in a dunk-tank filled with molassas. Dash and my convicts will be in the break room doing... Well, who really knows _what_ that crew will be doing, and Sam will be-"

"Returning home on a regular airline." Sam crosses her arms. It's not quite a threat, but it's close.

"Of course. Sam has an assignment to finish. Join us next time for more insane, random crap!" The lights fade out and the audience cheers, and I scream in unholy agony as Paullina finally gets her teeth clamped on my very-sensitive toes.

---

A/N: It just doesn't get any nuttier than this, folks! Well, actually, there's a very good chance that it will, but I dunno. We'll have to see about that. ;) Don't forget to review!


	5. Closet of Evil: Part 1

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Disclaimer: South Park is owned by Comedy Central

Closet of Evil: Part I

I'm sitting at my desk, twiddling my thumbs and looking out at the audience, waiting with a little sugar-high twitch for the intro music to cut out. I smile and stand as it finishes, thoughtfully rubbing my hands as I look over the audience.

"Good evening everyone. Long time no see, eh?"

The audience mutters and nods in agreement. "Come on Rabbyt!" shouts somebody up front. "We need our fix! You should update more often!" The individual is immediately branded a kiss-ass by everyone over fifteen.

I nod and wave the comment aside. "That's probably true. Nevertheless, we have some business to take care of before we get to the 'good part' with the special guest, who has been invited back" –forcibly abducted, more like, but whatever- "by the popular demand of my reviewers." The audience applauds and starts craning their heads, trying to get a look of the backstage area.

"The first item of business," I continue. "Is that I was using my bad glasses the other day, and accidentally mistook Creator-Chaos for a male. To atone for this mistake, something really cool but as yet unplotted will happen involving the (female) Creator-Chaos. Next-" I gesture to my new friends backstage. "It's come to my attention that there have been a good many inappropriate puns and innuendos involving drugs on the show. Here today to educate us," I announce, moving back to the desk. "Is the drug expert, South Park elementary's own Counselor Mackey!"

The audience claps nervously, wondering what the hell is going on now. I gesture again and there's a muffled protest behind the curtains before the skinny, huge-headed teacher stumbles onto the set.

"Oh, um, uh, hi," he says, smiling and waving like a perfect twit. I palm-face. The audience begins searching the floors for leftover produce.

I retreat to the desk and fold my hands. "Go ahead and have a seat on the couch." Better try and make the best of it. Maybe this guy is as smarter than he looks.

He stumbles over, that gigantic head of his revolving like a planet every time he turns to look at the audience. "Mm, mmm-kay," he mumbles. The audience snickers.

"So, Mr. Mackey, what is your opinion on drugs?"

Mackey looks over at me and adjusts his glasses. My gosh, that head of his istruly enormous. And what's up with that nose? It's like a little needley... needle thing.

"Uh, drugs are bayd, m-kay?"

I nod, smiling. From the corner of my eye I see a rotten brussel sprout land splat on the edge of the stage. "Yes counselor, but can you elaborate?"

"Wayl, ya see," he says, gesturing with his hands. "The main problem with drugs it that they're not good. They're actually very very bayd." He tilts his head at me, checking to see if I understand as though I'm some kind of nitwit. Which I probably am for inviting him on the show.

"Mm-kay?"

"Mm-kay Mister Mack-ay," says someone in the audience. Widespread giggling erupts as a couple more gooshy fruits spatter, this time farther up onstage.

"Whadda bout a veggie fo' ya, Mista Mack-ay?" somebody else asks, their voice cracked with laughter.

"Well thank yew," says the poor ignorant slob. "I'd love-"

An entire head of iceberg lettuce fires from the middle of the audience like acannon ball and hits Mackey in the face. It sends him flying right over the back of the couch, the weight of his head dragging him over and down with a dull thud.

"Ow! Hey, uh, that hurt. Mm-kay?"

I snap my fingers and a couple of fellows clad in caps and green bodysuits drag him away. The audience lowers its rotten food and looks at me for an explanation.

"We'll have that guy in the next bag to Colorado. As to the green dudes, they're my new stage help."

"What are they?" somebody asks.

"Well..." I take a breath and stand up, pacing the stage. "I had some rather good suggestions from reviewers, but I ignored them for no clearly definable reason whatsoever. These guys are garbage men."

The audience is confused. "Garbage men?"

"Yeah," I say. "Everybody knows that all garbage men are geniuses. Plus they already handle heavy bags on a regular basis." The audience shrugs and accepts it. It makes just as much sense as anything else on the show.

"Now that I've cleared up the whole drugs-are-not-good thing and thus justified the PG-13 as opposed to R-rating of this fic, we can have some good ole' fashioned fan-fun."

I gesture grandly to the screens as they flicker to life. "In the spirit of the Fan Zone's proud tradition of blatant sensationalism, please welcome Sam and Paullina! Trapped in a walk-in closet! With Danny watching!"

The audience roars as my view screens flash up, each showing several angles of Sam and Paullina trying to stay as far away from each other as is humanly possible in a closet. Danny is tossed onstage in the usual fashion and bursts from the bag looking really pissed-off. My brilliant garbage men subdue him with a ghost-proof gadget and toss him on the couch.

"Tune in next time," I shout over the hubbub. "As Paullina and Sam try to survive each other. Review to suggest items that should be crammed in there with them and propose strategies to prevent Danny from breaking loose and killing us all!" I smile and wave to the camera as it fades out, the jazzy music drowning out the frustrated threats of the audience forthe horrible cliff-hanger.

---

A/N: Seriously guys, review and suggest! Already in there is one (1) box of rabid stuffed poodles, courtesy of Queen of Cats. Closet concept provided by getfuzzyfan04. I may select random cameos from my reviewers for the next/future episodes, so if you've got an objection to that, speak up. Also, don't forget to send me an insane number of reviews and watch me pervert/shamelessly steal your ideas! :)

(Yes, Liaranne, Tucker will show up eventually. I want to have some fun with the other guys, though.)


	6. Closet of Evil: Part 2

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Closet of Evil: Part II

"So, Danny," I say, shoving the microphone in his face. "Tell us how it feels to watch your girlfriend and your 'girlfriend' duke it out while trapped in a small space with potentially lethal occupants?"

Danny glares at me and grumbles through the duct tape. Sam and Paullina, in agreement for once, are yelling into the camera, telling me what an insensitive twit I am. The audience is thinking about storming the stage and running off to play spin the bottle with Danny, but my chairs are too comfortable and I've just served refreshments. Plus, they want to see how long Sam and Paullina go on yelling at me before they start attacking each other.

I'm a little curious about that myself.

"Everyone listen up-you too, guys," I say to the girls on-screen. "This is weird. Danny's pissed, and Sam and Paullina are pissed. That wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that they're all pissed off at _me_.

"We need to get them pissed at something else. So the closet will be filled with rabid stuffed poodles, death pillows-whatever those are, kittens heavily dosed with espresso coffee, and-" I check the list in my pocket- "Closet hangars. That self-replicate."

Through the speakers, random barking noises are heard. There's a scuffle and Paullina starts to shriek. "Ahhh! Poodles, damnit!"

"Poodles, _damnit_?" Sam asks. "They're not that bad."

The audience snickers as Paullina is knocked to the floor by a dozen small, fluffy poodles.

Sam starts to shake her head, but her eyes bug out as she looks off-camera. "What's that- OH MY LORD, no, not-" She screams and tries to run, but where can she go; it's a _closet_. A white blur shoots up and knocks her down, beginning to do something evil to her face. The audience squints for a better look. The white blob/death pillow squirms around spastically, making growling, lippy-smacky noises as Sam tries to tear it off her face.

The audience starts to get into it and roots for Sam as she struggles with the pillow. The coat hangers continue to multiply. They litter the floor, tripping up the girls whenever they do manage to stand, and what with all the nutty, fluffy poodles yipping around after the cats, standing is no easy task. Impromptu bookies in the audience take bets as to how long either one can stay upright.

Danny is still tied up on my couch, and he grumbles furiously through the duct tape.

"All right, all right." I whistle, and one of my garbage men runs onstage and cuts him loose. Danny springs into the air and my man teleports him into the closet.

The audience is looking at my closet and wondering just how much space is left. Danny drops down to the floor and is immediately attacked/blinded by a death pillow.

The other pillows start to congregate, attaching to each other to form something… big. I'm not sure what it is, but it's huge and it's angry, but it's aimed at Paullina so it's no big deal.

The pillow monster finishes forming and, with a swoosh of one fluffy limb, disregards Paullina and actually eats one of the kittens. I clear my throat and hope nobody objects that a soft, fluffy animal has just been mercilessly devoured by a hideous monster. God bless the desensitization of TV. Still, something should be done about this mess.

I clear my throat and call yet another of my garbage men. I whisper something and he rushes off with a curt nod.

The pillow monster smacks its lips and leers down at Paullina, cotton-soft mouth agape. She screams. Just then, a garbage man runs onstage toting a burlap bag and a portable vacuum-cleaner-lookin'-thing.

I jump up and tear the bag open with a handy pair of scissors. "Come on, Tucker."

Tucker scrambles out, shaking a scrap of burlap off his leg. "What-"

"Sst! Not now." I look again at the vacuum-thing. It'll take two people. I look at the screen. There's time. The monster is still having trouble shoving Paullina in its mouth. And she won't shut hers.

"Oooo, you are so dead when I get out. My Daddy's going to SUE you 'till you die and then dig up your grave and dress you like a bum and you'll go to HELL looking like a dirty stinky bum and blah blah BLAH blah BLAAAAHHHHH…"

I roll my eyes and glance around the audience. "Ah!" I say. "You."

"Me?" says the person.

"Yeah, you. What's your name? You're going to help Tucker."

"I'm getfuzzyfan04. What am I helping with?"

I hold up the vacuum's nozzle. "This thing. It'll fix the pillow problem."

"What about-" Tucker finally sees the screen. "Whoa. What's going-"

"Teleporters!" I call.

"Awesome!" says Fuzzy. She grips the tank of the machine while Tuck grabs the hose. "I will rock their panties," she mutters. Her snide grin fades out as the teleporters take hold.

"Um… O-kaaayy…" I say. "Good luck with that!"

The closet is now fully packed. The cameras can just barely see through those blasted closet hangars.

"DIE!" shouts Fuzzy. Tucker fires the vacuum-gun at Danny and Sam. The pillows scream and melt from their faces.

"Ugh, thanks." Sam spits and coughs, wiping pillow goo off herself. She looks over to Danny, relieved, as his own pillow dissolves. "Are you okay?"

He nods. "You?"

"I'm fine." She covers her ears and waves for Tucker to take care of Paullina.

Paullina has been screeching throughout the entire episode. Tucker shoots the pillow-monster, grimacing as it groans and melts through the hangars in clumps of white cotton-candyish goo. A kitten mews and jumps from its soft mass. Paullina stops yelling and sighs, thinking foolishly that she is safe, before starting to scream again as another poodle catches her ankle.

The kittens are terrified. The hose only affects the pillow monsters, so the foursome resorts to using the vacuum-thing as a shield against the animals.

I clap my hands. Enough of this.

"O-kay, everyone, good job. You've survived Rabbyt's Closet of Evil and Doomy Bad Stuff." I jerk my head to the garbage man. "Teleporter."

He nods and smacks a button on a keypad. The three of them phase out and rematerialize on the set, Danny, Sam, and Tucker on the couch, Paullina in an armchair, and Fuzzy standing by my desk.

I shake her hand. "Thanks for joining us."

"Any time! This whole thing was panty_-rockin_.'" She smiles and returns to the audience, sneaking a taunting look at Paullina. Paullina's too busy hyperventilating to notice.

I turn to my victims. "So, how are the rest of you guys? Still alive?"

Danny and Sam are a tiny bit paralyzed. Their eyes are buggy, and Sam reaches mutely for Danny's hand. It's a small gesture, but nothing escapes the audience.

I sigh. "Yeah, well, sorry about that. As a reward for your… endurance, you guys will get a break. We'll torture the villains next episode. How about you, Tucker or Paullina?"

Tucker shakes his head at me. "You are a sick, sick person."

"Thanks for your input. How about you, Paullina?"

She glares at me and begins foaming at the mouth. "Ooo, right. _Rabid_ poodles. Well, uh, don't worry. We've got shots for that." I glance over the group again. Hope they don't need therapy after this. Oh well. If they do, they've got Jazz.

I slap my desk with a sigh and turn to the audience. "Thanks for joining us for this action-packed 'battle royal' edition of The Fan Zone. Next episode, we'll return to the typical nonsense when I haul Jazz in here to do therapy with the villains! Review to suggest psychoses for your favorites." I arrange the papers at my desk and cue up the funky end-show music. "Thanks again for joining us for The Fan Zone, and goodnight everyone!"

A/N: That's it for the battle-royal ep, as well as a surprise cameo! The time for reviewing, should you choose to do it is, uh… wait…. Wait a couple seconds… Okay, NOW! The time for reviewing is NOW! Quick, quick, go do it or something horrible will happen!


	7. Group Therapy: Part 1

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Group Therapy: Part I

The audience fills the room in minutes, but many people quickly wonder whether they should've gone next door to the 'Ned's Declassified' set instead. There's a tremendous racket going on backstage, and every once in a while some minor lackey runs across the set with a mysterious piece of equipment. They hear me screaming angrily at something, and then there's this biiiiiig ole' friggen flash of light that makes people wonder if they should have brought lead aprons, but then I walk onstage, my burgundy suit slightly ruffled and my glasses askew.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone," I say, smiling calmly and fixing my glasses. "How we doin' today?"

The audience stays quiet. Somebody in the front pipes up. "How are YOU doing today. What the crap was that?"

"Oh, that? That was nothing. Our guests had a slight altercation with the staff backstage." I take a seat at my desk. "Speaking of my guests, as soon as my butt-savingly clever garbage men set up some chairs we can get this show on the road!" Immediately they run onstage and set up a bunch of chairs in a semicircle facing the audience. "That's better. If you remember from last time, I promised we'd be doing some kind of crazy psychoanalysis thing with the 'villains.' Their lawyers have informed me that they shall henceforth be called 'misunderstood persons.' May I have several volunteers to help me deal with the lawyers?"

Hands go up all over the place.

"Alright, let's getLiaranne, Creator-Chaos, and Blossoming O- uh, I mean 'Muffy teh Boy Slayer.'" The people I called jump onstage, and I hand them over to a nearby garbage man. "Follow him. He'll show you to the armory and give you the enemy coordinates."

They scurry away, giggling in anticipation of the wonderful hi-tech destruction I shall allow them to wreak upon the doomed heads of those filthy lawyers.

"Now that that's taken care of, we can get to the good stuff. Please welcome Vlad Plasmius, Ember McClane, Sydney Poindexter, Mr. Lancer, the Fright Night, and the Box Ghost!"

They parade onstage, looking just as sour as ever. Except for Lancer, who looks more terrified than sour, and the Box Ghost, who looks like… the Box Ghost.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

"I'll be back! And I'll win! I'll have a BIGGER SWORD next time, you mortal IMBECILES!"

"Finnegan's Wake! Who are you people!"

"Will you guys just SHUT UP!" shoutVlad and Ember in unison.

I rub my hands together. "I'd say we're off to a great start. Ember, tell us why you dress like a whore and dance like a boy."

She whirls on me, hair flaming. "EXCUSE ME?"

I shrug. "Well, this is a therapy session."

The audience turns as Jazz walks onstage. "That's my job."

"Jazz?" Vlad asks.

"Yes, Jazz," I answer. "She's here to keep you from kicking your own collective butts."

"How thoughtful of you," comes Poindexter's nasally retort.

"Don't mention it, Geek-bait." Poindexter glares at me. Nonchalantly, I tap the control panel for their wrist-bands, devices my garbage men designed to curb their powers. Vlad catches my meaning and glares at me. I shrug and roll my eyes toward the Fright Night, who is currently trying to knock the block off the Box Ghost.

"I will have my vengeance!"

"Ha! You can never penetrate the flawless rectitude of my box-fu!"

Jazz taps my shoulder. "Can we do something about those two?"

"Yeah, sure." I call out a garbage man and whisper something. I sit back to wait as Lancer begins to chum around with Poindexter.

"Say, weren't you in my band class?"

Poindexter squints at Lancer for a minute, and his face brightens. "Yeah, I was! Hey, you were pretty good on the trombone."

Lancer laughs. "Oh, I haven't picked that thing up in years."

"You're kidding me! You should try it again sometime."

Vlad rolls his eyes at what is, quite possibly, the most boring conversation in existence. I discreetly roll back the restraints on his wrist band. Vlad nods gratefully at me and sets Lancer's hair on fire. Lancer jumps up from his seat and begins running circles around the stage, and a swarm of garbage men bearing ruby-red fire extinguishers rush out from backstage to chase after him. Ember nearly laughs herself out of her seat as Vlad smirks.

In the midst of the chaos, a couple of my staffers slip up behind the Box Ghost and the Fright Night and clap muzzles over their faces. I wonder how they got one to work on the Fright Night, who has no discernable mouth, but it doesn't matter because the volume has come down enough for everyone to hear their own thoughts again. The audience has been staring in delighted shock, and now they snuggle down in their padded chairs for something slightly less hectic.

I bring two hands down on my desk. "Okay! So if we can bring the preliminary nonsense to an end, I'll give the floor to Jazz." I motion for her to go ahead. She smiles nervously and folds her hands on her lap as all the villains take their seats.

"So, let's start with…" She looks among them, trying to pick out the sanest, no doubt. "Let's go with you, Lancer. What was your childhood like?"

"It was fine. Nobody ever lit my hair on fire." He takes another look at Jazz. "How did you end up here?"

I sigh. "I'm paying for roughly half of her tuition to Stanford."

Lancer blinks. "Oh."

Jazz blushes and mumbles something.

"I'll tell you about my childhood," grumbles Poindexter. "Evil. Those guys were ALL-ways picking on me!"

"RETREAT! RETREAT!" somebody shouts backstage. There's a crash, and tiny pieces of ceiling fall onto the set.

Jazz glares at me. I smile and sit up in my chair. "I guess the battle against the lawyers isn't going so well."

Muffy teh Boy Slayer tumbles backward onto the set, heavily armored in hi-tech battle gear and holding a sizeable firearm in one hand. She leaps up and shouts, "You'll never take me alive!" before racing back into the off-stage fray.

"They're fighting lawyers?" asks Lancer.

I shake my head. "Yeah. Man, those guys canget nasty."

"I haven't even started yet," Jazz shouts. "What are you—"

I shush her. "Just think: Stanford." She simmers but doesn't protest. The Fright Night and the Box Ghost start to mumble insistently through the muzzles, while Ember and Vlad turn their chairs for a better view of the mayhem. The audience wonders what's going to be done about this mess. Little do they know that I plan to take what has been classically termed the 'glacial creep' option: ignore everything until it either calms down, explodes, or gets bored and wanders off.

Unfortunately I'm going to have to exercise this strategy somewhere else, because the lawyers are armed with imperial walkers, those long-legged machiney-things from Star Wars IV. I dive behind my desk and curse as they shoot out the wrist-band controls. The audience is really worried now, and I am forced to abandon the 'glacial creep' strategy for the 'pass out lasers and shoot like hell' strategy. Entrenched behind my desk, I shout for my staff to distribute the weapons to the audience, which shouts with glee at the prospect. On an impulse, I glance up at the ceiling.

All my 'misunderstood persons,' including Lancer, are sitting up there in the rafters, eating popcorn and laughing their asses off.

* * *

A/N: JadeR's back with more violent, seizure-inducing joy! Cameo-fest up ahead. Review for your chance to star. 


	8. Group Therapy: Part 2

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Group Therapy: Part 2

After giving those dumb villains a filthy look, thus stirring them to laugh harder and bounce popcorn off my face, I peek over the edge of the desk to check up on the general state of the studio.

It's in ruins, of course. The five or six imperial walkers are showing no respect for the set, and my audience is having way WAY too much fun with their lasers. In the front of the set, we've got Zombie-rodeo-frog leaping around the walkers' feet, throwing around some kind of anti-lawyer sporks, and Just Plain Insane is dashing about like a rabid Chihuahua, doing… something very smelly that involves pressurized Cheesy-Whiz and a flamethrower, while Dannys-Ghostly-Girl is riding atop one of the walkers and unloading her Uzi into the metal of its hatch.

Mental note: never provoke the audience.

Somebody pitches a chunk of the first row at one of the walkers, and in the process of regaining its balance, it crushes my wonderful, plush, perfect-for-reading couch, at which point I decide it's time for me to suit up and kick some ass.

I stand up to race backstage and run smack into Jazz.

She glares at me. "Well, what now."

"Umm… How are you with a 9-millimeter?" I ask.

"No!" she says. "Not that. Look, if you ever want to get things back in order then we need some kind of plan, here."

She's right, naturally. "Well, what do you suggest? I'm not exactly going to run out there and fight them with nothing but my dazzling fashion sense, although this suite is pretty nifty…"

She rolls her eyes. "We need somebody who can bargain with the lawyers. I don't know if you've noticed, but by the time your highly aggressive audience takes these guys down, they'll have taken this entire building down with them."

"We don't have anybody with that kind of training. But," I muse. "We might be able to beat them with a massive overload of illogic." I look up in the rafters, smirking. "And we've got plenty of that."

A few minutes and a good deal of nonsense later, Jazz and I are conversing in a secluded backstage area with—that's right! The Box Ghost.

"I am the Box Ghost!"

"Yes, yes you are," I affirm. "And surely there is no one who is a bigger square than yourself."

Jazz laughs. The BG takes it as a compliment, smiling proudly. "What else would you expect from—"

"We have a message!" I shout randomly. "A vital, important, very rectangular, post-stamped message from the, the uh…" I smooth my hair back, thinking. "The Aztec Box Gods." I hear Jazz palm-face behind me, but the BG takes it: hook, line, and sinker.

"Oh! What do they say? Deliver to me their prepackaged WISDOM!"

"They say that these metal demons are infidels, sent to make everything that is cornered and boxy—round! You must stop them using the holy scriptures of, of um… boxy… box-dom."

"Lame," Jazz whispers. I shush her.

The BG's eyes light up and he gets all loud and excited. "I shall obey my Aztec Box-Lords!" He shoots back onstage, Jazz and I close behind.

I whistle, catching the lawyer's attention. "Hey! Here's the counsel for the defense!"

The imperial walkers stop blasting everything in range for a minute, their metal heads turning toward me. One approaches, its huge feet shaking the ground, and pops its hatch, revealing a round-faced sweaty guy in an expensive suit.

"Speak," he says to the BG. My audience stops its insanity for a moment to listen.

"YOU are in violation of the 1465 Supreme General Crate decision by Colonel Carton, Master of Gift-Wrap!" shouts the BG.

The sweaty dude blinks. "I beg your pardon?"

"And the Coffers of Damnation! You shall face the wrath of Boxlbub, Lord of Packing Peanuts!"

Sweaty dude is confused. "Are you asking for a settlement?"

"Beware!"

They actually would have done well to take that last advice. As the BG and Sweaty Guy have been talking, the other lawyers have popped their heads out of their own walkers. Quite confused by the BG's prattle, they don't notice the sneaky audience gearing up its sporks, Uzis, lasers, and various assorted lethal weapons. Everyboy's finger starts to squeeze the trigger when Vlad and Ember jump down from the rafters.

"Look, this is dumb," Ember scoffs. "This whole stupid battle-thing… it's dumb. And you lawyers! Imperial walkers? Our contract doesn't cover that!"

"Yes it does," Sweaty Dude says.

"No, it doesn't," Vlad states. His eye beams fry a couple hairs off Sweaty Dude's head.

Realizing that this could get pretty ugly pretty quickly, I run backstage and grab a portable transporter control, enlisting the help of several garbage men in the process. We run back on-stage. Vlad is angry, Ember is petulant and angry, the Box Ghost and the Fright Knight are chasing each other around the studio and the audience is getting restless again. In a fantastically addle-brained use of _dues ex machina_, we manage to teleport away the lawyers, Lancer, the Box Ghost, the Fright Knight, Poindexter, and Jazz, before Vlad finally catches us and destroys the modules. He picks me up by the collar of my shirt, lifting my toes a couple inches above the ground, and glares at me.

"You're in big trouble, you know."

I don't like his smile. "Yeah." Thinkfast thinkfast thinkfast… Ah! His vanity. "Hey, would you like to sign some autographs?"

"What?"

Still dangling in midair, I wiggle around to glance at the audience. "You guys want to meet Vlad? And Ember?"

The audience nods slowly, still a little confused by all this.

Hopefully this works. Vlad isn't looking terribly happy right now, and his breath smells BAD. "The polls show you at the top of the villains list, you and Ember both! You've got tons of fans."

Vlad sets me down. "Really."

"Yeah," I say, "Really. We've got a uh, luau all set up on the lawn out back. A real whole cooked pig, and Hawaiian junk and a pool and punch and all kinds of great stuff." A garbage man catches my desperate look, gives me a thumbs-up, and disappears out the side door exit with a few others to set things up.

I put some enthusiasm into my voice. "So how about it, guys? You want to go party with the bad boys—" Ember clears her throat. "—and girls?"

The audience thinks about it, gradually becoming accustomed to the idea. Then somebody shouts, "PAAAARRRRRTEEEEEEEEEE!" and everybody thunders out the back doors, where the crackling of meat on a barbeque can already be heard. They scream and shout delightfully, and within moments I am left alone onstage. A garbage man comes out and asks if I want anything.

"Punch would be nice." He brings me a cup, and I move to go outside, my hand on the chrome push-bar of the door—when I hear a loud explosion, the zipper-sounds of suits being donned, and the screams of lasers and bullets along with the thunder of Ember's guitar. Somebody must have finally taken a pot-shot at one of the baddies. I take my hand off the door and move to sink into the remains of my couch, trusting that the audience will have a good time in its own unique, bright-eyed, weapon-filled, pyro-maniacal way.

* * *

A/N: Okay, this was crazy, even for me. Next episode: less insanity, more of the funny, and—by popular demand—more DannySam-ness! And, since I didn't get a chance to ask in the show, do we have any people who DON'T like D/S? Let me know what ya'll want to see! 


	9. Agents of Luve: Part 1

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Agents of Luve: Part I

"Are we all enjoying our chocolate Easter bunnies?"

The audience nods, happily chewing the heads off its candied animals. I grin at them. "Good. Then let's get started. First—"

"Whoa! Jade." Somebody raises a hand, waving it around.

I squint at the person, trying to get a better look at them. "Yes?"

"Why is today's show being held in the Casper High basement?"

The show is indeed being held in the basement. There are forgotten school materials everywhere, and I had to have extra stage lights brought in to light it properly. The stage itself consists of a wooden crate of 'Ms. Mercy's Safety-First Scissors,' on which I am having more than a little trouble balancing.

"Well, that would involve a complicated explanation of the studio's insurance policy. And since the studio was COMPLETELY DESTROYED last time—" The audience snickers like a bunch of delinquents. Oh well. At least they're cheerful delinquents. "—we're holding the show here today.

"Last time I got a bunch of people asking for Danny/Sam. Am I right?"

"Duh," somebody mumbles.

I clap my hands. "Right. Anyway, this show took so long to organize because it just so happens to be nearly impossible for me to plan out something that is both realistic, romantic, _and_ funny, and goodness knows there are enough ficcers out there writing Danny and Sam completely out-of-character. That stuff is alright, but here at the 'The Fan Zone' we pride ourselves in our realism."

"Wait, so lawyers armed with imperial walkers are realistic now?"

I glare at the speaker. "No more chocolate for that kid. Somebody take his chocolate."

The audience looks at me like I've just ordered his execution. I roll my eyes. "Alright, he keeps his chocolate."

"Dang right he does."

"ANYWAY," I continue. "Instead of having Danny and Sam come on here and having them perform a bunch of humiliating or insane tasks—"

"But we _like_ humiliating and insane."

"I know you do, and I did actually consider a mud-wrestling match between Sam and Paullina, with Danny as the referee, but that sounded a little too weird. Maybe we'll do that next episode, if you guys ask for it. This episode, however, you guys all get to play secret agent. On a mission to get Danny and Sam to smooch, or hug, or do something to get them to at least partially recognize that they like each other."

"That's lame."

"Yes I know it _sounds_ lame," I groan. "But it's not. See, the school janitor's closet has been converted into the entrance to an underground base. Everybody will get ear buds so we can all speak to and hear each other, and cameras, so we can all see each other." I shove a couple newer-looking boxes forward. "The cameras are hidden in a variety of things. Hats, pins, plastic fish, cans of spam, you name it. Everybody grab a camera and an ear bud. Also, we're arranged things with the administration so that the right number of kids to be absent from their classes. Bottom line: the faculty shouldn't bother you, and you'll all have seats in their classes."

The audience gets a little more interested, thankfully. The chocolate, spy gear, and prospect of impending cameo-ness have all made them happy, but I can tell they were expecting something more, and I'm sorry to have disappointed them.

Be careful what you wish for.

Something huge crashes into the back of me and sends boxes flying everywhere. The audience scatters. I scramble up and look into the face of the biggest friggen chocolate Easter bunny I've ever seen. Its head alone is the size of a Buick.

"**I AM THE EASTER BUNNY… OF DOOM!**"

I nod, wondering where the crap _this_ monster came from. "Uh, yeah, I can see that." There's really not much I can do about it, either. My garbage men took the day off to attend a lecture at Caltech.

Somebody behind me chuckles. "Hee hee, the rabbit's after Rabbyt."

Ouch. That's gotta take the cake for Worst Pun in the Universe.

"**YOU HAVE ANGERED ME WITH YOUR MASS CONSUMPTION OF MY SUGARY BRETHEREN!**"

"Um, okay, but could you stop talking in caps? People hate that."

The bunny rears up, chocolate limbs pawing the air as its gaping mouth reveals a couple massive incisors. "**PREPARE TO FACE MY WRATH!**"

I whirl to the audience. "Thanksforcomingeverybody, now_Runforyourlives!_"

A mechanical hiss screeches through the basement. "Hold it!" A familiar figure in a maroon suit zips by on a hovercraft, firing a couple of rockets at the rabbit. Huge chunks of chocolate go flying, and several of the more adamant candy-fans race forward and grab them up.

I follow the figure as it makes another pass at the rabbit. "Valerie?"

"What!"

Whups. I forgot she has a 'secret' identity. "Uh, nothing. Carry on." The rabbit is quickly reduced to chocolate gravel. She alights next to me, folding up her hovercraft but leaving her mask on.

"What are you all doing and how do you know my name?"

"Well," I say. "I am the host of a show that is basically devoted to making life harder for everybody in the Danny-verse, all for the grand purpose of making the audience giggle."

"The Danny-verse? You can't mean Danny Fenton."

I rub my forehead. No way I'm going to explain all this right now. "Look, thanks for the save; we all appreciate it. But we've all got something to attend to right now."

"But—"

"If I give you fifty bucks and a Baskin Robins voucher, will you stop asking questions?"

She jerks back, surprised. "Uh… N— Well, yes, I mean… What?"

"Great." I drop the stuff in her hands and wave to the audience. "What are you guys still doing here? Get going. School's about to start!"

* * *

A/N: Alrighty! I shall need 'secret agent' cameos for the next part. The two boys are already on the to-be-cameoed list, but we also need a ninja, a psychopath, and maybe a, oh I dunno, somebody is a giant squirrel suit or something. Review to tell me what you'd like to be or what you'd like to see! Or just review to tell me that you laughed yourself into a hernia. (grins) 


	10. Agents of Luve: Part 2

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Agents of Luve: Part 2

"Gimme camera one." The garbage man sitting next to me grumbles about asking politely before punching a couple buttons, bringing a view of Casper's schoolyard onto the main view screen. They're still mad at me for recalling them from Caltech, but after the whole almost-getting-eaten-by-an-Easter-chocolate thing, it's not like I'm going to take any chances.

On the view screen, Danny and Sam are just walking onto the premises, together as luck would have it. They stop, disturbed by the abundance of gigantic wildlife.

"Is it just me, or did the school suffer a sudden infestation of people in huge, ugly squirrel suits?" Sam asks.

Danny looks nervous, but he isn't fleeing in terror yet. Which is good. "I don't know, but I don't like it," he says. "Let's just get inside the school. Maybe there's something going on in there." Cautiously, the two of them make their way through a virtual wall of kids in giant squirrel suits. It's funny to watch, like a scene out of Hitchcock's _Birds_.

Except with squirrels.

Suddenly, as if NOBODY would have EVER predicted it would happen, one of the squirrel-people falls forward, knocking Danny into Sam and nearly sending them toppling. "'Scuse me," chirps the squirrel.

"Uh, sure," says Danny.

Sam looks nervous. "Let's go, let's go…"

I hear a flurry of voices over the com, the squirrels plotting en masse, and then they all start stumbling toward Danny and Sam. The object is obviously to get the two of them to fall in an awkward position, but from Danny and Sam's perspective it looks like a flock of huge, perfectly silent, five to six foot tall squirrels is attacking them.

Danny can't go ghost because there are still several (decidedly freaked-out) 'normal' children on the lawn, so he does the next best thing.

"RUN!" They make it to the doors and slam them shut. The squirrels follow.

I turn on the radio. "Hey, all you squirrelly-dudes, why don't you try NOT scaring the crap out of him?"

"But it's so much _fun_ to scare the crap out of him…" somebody whines.

I sigh. "I know. But just be a little less obvious than that, okay? Don't mob him or he might finally go ghost and fry your butts. And I'm not sure the network covers medical for guests. Change out of those dorky suits, or at least don't cluster so much."

The squirrels' squeaky voices shout indignantly over the radio. "We _like _to cluster." "Cluster power!" "Yeah!"

My, this little episode should be interesting.

XXX

I follow the group on the monitors. The squirrels continue to travel in one gigantic herd through the hallways, following Danny and Sam, but at a distance. The two are joined by Tucker near a locker.

"Danny, I don't want to butt in or anything, but it looks like you've got a huge flock of squirrels following you around."

Danny looks back at them and sighs. "Yeah, I know." The squirrels giggle and try to hide behind a garbage can. Do you know what twenty kids in squirrel suits trying to hide in a garbage can looks like? It looks very, very weird.

"Well, at least they're keeping their distance now." Sam rifles through a folder in her hands. "They were a lot pushier outside."

Tucker shakes his head at Danny. "Man, hanging out with you, things just get weirder all the time."

A ninja appears. "WHOA!" Tucker yells. "See what I mean! You, my friend, are a weirdo _magnet_."

Sam grins at Tucker. "What?" he says.

Sam shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Silence!" shouts the black-garbed, face-masked ninja. "I am Serenity Koshimo! Expert at all things ninja…"

Danny hides a chuckle. "Uh, your shirt is inside out."

The ninja looks down. "Dangit… Well anyway, I am the ninja of luve… YOUR true love, Danny!" Danny turns the brightest shade of red I've ever seen. Sam's mouth does this twisty frowny thing (it communicates the message 'I'm getting pissed' very clearly), and the squirrels all chirp and fall over themselves trying to scramble forward.

I grin and kick my feet up on the computer console.

"Ye-e-e-esssss, that's right, Danny!" the ninja cackles. "I have come to take you away to—"

"SQUIRRELLY KICK ATTACK!" The squirrels finally sort themselves out and mob the ninja. "Blasphemy, blasphemy!" they cry. The ninja is duly subdued and hauled away to some unspeakable squirrelly doom. One of the furry critters lingers, giggling. "You two look really cute together. Danny's such a hunk."

Danny looks like he's blown several brain fuses. "Uh, okay…"

"Isn't he though?" Sam agrees.

Danny and Tucker turn towards her. You can just hear Danny's neurons frying. "Did you say something?"

"No, uh, I mean, isn't it time for class?" Just then, the bell rings. Sam laughs nervously. "Yeah, see? Come on or we'll be late!" She hurries away.

Tucker puts a sympathetic hand on Danny's shoulder. "Shoulda called in sick today."

Danny nods. "Uh-huh."

XXX

The psychopaths are up to something. Just as there's a cluster of squirrels wandering around the halls, there's a nest of psychopaths creeping around in the ventilation system. I shudder to think what they're doing up there, but I activate a camera and audio frequency anyway, just to make sure they're not distributing an airborne virus or something evil like that.

"The Banana Cluster will prevail…" I hear one of them whisper. "We will capture the ghost child attending this class and make him our king…" There's not much in the way of a video feed, considering the pitch-blackness of the ventilation ducts. Some light sneaks through a grating above a classroom, where the rustling of pages indicates a class in session.

"Viva la Banana!" another psycho rejoins.

"Sssh! Be silent, Ella-629."

"Sorry."

"Apology not accepted!" thunders Commander Psycho. "Mob her, everybody!"

My mouth hangs open as a full-blown brawl erupts in the ventilation duct. Fortunately there's not much room in there. And unfortunately, Casper High's construction company jipped them on ceiling construction.

All the psychos, a wild-eyed bunch around ten in number, crash through the ceiling, kicking and screaming, and land in the middle of class. Danny yells and jumps away from his desk, narrowly avoiding the rain of insanity.

"THERE HE IS!" screams Commander Psycho, who, I now realize, is Person-X. She points a dagger-like finger at Danny. "Girls, now's our chance! GET HIM!"

Danny makes a little chocking noise and bolts for the door. "I don't believe I'm saying this, but Squirrel-People, help me!"

"Squirrel people?" asks Lancer, currently cowering behind his desk.

Danny dodges the lunge of a psycho. "Well, they took care of the ninja for me."

As it happens, the squirrelly people are waiting just outside the classroom, no doubt waiting to stalk Danny the minute class let out, but on hearing his cry they all pour in like a giant furry river of lovable vengeance.

"Halt your evil, Bannana Cult!" they squeal. What follows is a virtual war, psychos vs. squirrels. The squirrels have an advantage with their costume padding, but the psychos are far more ferocious. It's a hair-pulling nose-bleeding _mess_.

Danny escapes out the window, and when it's obvious that the object of the dissent is no longer in sight, the ruckus begins to die down. A lot of people are fussy, but none of them are injured, thank God. I activate the radio. "You guys aren't very efficient."

"Screw you, Jade." "Just tell us where he went!"

"He went out the window."

All animosity is forgotten as the Danny-fans let loose one massive, ear-splitting fangirly SCREECH and DIVE for the windows. Glass shatters, Lancer starts to yell, and it becomes obvious to me that efficiency is not a terribly high priority for these guys. It's the thrill of the whole insane pursuit that counts.

* * *

A/N: And thus we have part 2! Yes, there is a part 3, and I promise that this is one of the (very few) FZ's that actually has a _plot._ Weird, huh? I also promise more action packingness and more joyous cameoness, as well as a quick update, so drop a review and stay tuned! 


	11. Agents of Luve: Part 3

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Agents of Luve: Part 3

Alright, so Danny is up a tree, the squirrels are in the yard with the psychopaths, and Sam, back in the classroom, is about ready to wring somebody's neck. Tucker has gone after Danny, and Lancer's hiding under his desk.

All is right with the world.

I bring up the cameras on the yard. The squirrels and the psychos have formed an uneasy partnership and are moving together like a herd of freakishly mutated deer, the squirrels in their huge fluffy costumes, the psychos with their bulging eyes and affinity for evil cackling. I notice Pcp13 among them, wearing a Darth Vader suit. PhantomAl travels nearby in a squirrel suit.

I click on the intercom. "Hey guys. Any luck?"

"Fat chance," says pcp13. "We're supposed to be lending our aid to the DxS hookup, but it seems most of these girls are more interested in Danny than the orthodox pairing."

"That's not true," says Al. "A lot of them think they belong together. And so do I."

Pcp13 scoffs at that. He pouts a moment, then begins to breathe eerily into his mask. "Luke, I am your father."

Al groans. Loudly. "Cut that out." Pcp13 is quiet for a minute. Then…

"Luuuuuuuke…"

"It's not FUNNY! EVERYBODY does that line!"

I laugh. "Okay guys, I have an idea. Danny of the invisibility powers is never going to let this group near him. I think he's probably seriously freaked out by all these girls. But maybe you _two_, who are _boys_, and therefore probably _not_ romantically interested in him, will have a better chance." I pause. "But please lose the ugly suits."

"Suits stay ON!" declares pcp13.

What is it with these people and their costumes? "Alright, alright. Here's the plan, then. Danny is hiding in a tree on the left side of the school. He might not come down if you just shout at him, but if you told him how he could get us to _go away_, he might cooperate."

Al has a blinding flash of the obvious. "…by kissing Sam…"

I smile. "Exactly."

XXX

"Um, hi." PhantomAl has his squirrel-costume's head down and is looking up into the big maple tree. "We're the uh, strange people."

A branch shakes overhead as Danny moves for a better look. "Yeah, I can see that. What are you guys doing here? What are all these girls doing here? Why are you all dressed up like idiots?"

Pcp13/Darth Vader says… "Luke, we are your—" Al, very politely and with much gentility, removes Vader's helmet and kicks it across the street. Vader says a dirty word and runs after it.

Al looks back up at Danny. "You want us to leave, right?"

"Yes!" says Danny the Maple Tree.

"There's only one thing you have to do."

"Tell me."

Al chews his lip for a minute. "Just kiss Sam."

The tree sputters. "I can't do that! Sam would never agree to that, and besides, I don't even like her… _that _way…"

"The force has fifty American dolores which sez otherwise, young Jedi." Vader has found his helmet and returned, I see.

"She really digs you," Al says. "Trust me."

"She does not. That's impossible. We're just… good friends, is all."

"I'm telling you, Sam digs you! You might even thank us after all this."

"You're all insane!"

I chuckle. "Oooo, denial. Juicy! Hey Al, throw Danny your earpiece." He does it. I hear a rustle and some static, then voices as Danny debates with Al about the likelihood of the microphone being wired with explosives. Finally, he puts it in.

"Is this Danny?"

"YOU!" The speaker crackles with the shout. "I should have known you're the only idiot who'd ever think of something this nuts."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Listen, me and my eccentric friends are not leaving until we see some action."

"This isn't fair," he mutters.

He's got that right. "No, but it's kick-arse entertainment. And are you going to tell me that you've _never_ wanted to smooch Samantha Manson?"

The other end of the line is mysteriously quiet. I smirk. "It's easy, dude. Here, I'll even tell ya how to do it. Just go up and say, 'Look, I'm sorry, but I'll inevitably be molested by psychopathic fans if you and I don't smooch.'"

"This is unbelievable… And—even if I DID do… that thing you just said—there's no WAY I'm doing it in front of your sicko audience."

"That's okay. We've got cameras all over the place, anyway."

Danny grumbles to himself. "You stink. And you're in trouble next time we meet."

"That's what everybody says these days. Anyway, it's up to you. Give me back to Al." More static as the earpiece changes hands.

"The Dark Side suggests we tell the squirrels where Danny is," breathes pcp13.

Tempting, but not the best way to handle things. "How about we tell Sam where Danny is instead?"

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know it's short, but it was cut short for a very good reason. The first reason is that the thought of starting a new episode on an odd-numbered chapter makes me itch. The second excellent reason is that SAM NEEDS WEAPONS (preferably non-lethal) TO SAVE DANNY AND BATTLE THE PSYCHOS! THE PSYCHOS NEED WEAPONS TO BATTLE SAM AND CAPTURE DANNY! THE SQUIRRELS NEED A FRESH SUPPLY OF (chocolate/candy flavored) ACORNS! Suggestions, Gadgets, and Praise are all welcome, and be here on June 3rd for the final installment of this nonsense!  



	12. Agents of Luve: Part 4

The Fan Zone

By JadeRabbyt

Agents of Luve: Part 4 (The Good Part!)

The herd outside, incredible as it may seem, was starting to get bored. You can only spend so much time looking for an invisible boy. Accordingly, the psycho squirrel mix decided to order a livestock-shooting catapult from my garbage men.

Now, most people would consider it a _bad_ idea to give thirty-odd eccentric fans something that shoots four hundred pound mooing objects into near earth orbit. However, most people are also ignorant saps. It's a proven scientific fact that there is very little that is more entertaining than watching a person get drenched with airborne cow poop. It's also a proven scientific fact that most kids, given the opportunity, would love to punch big holes in their school's roof, and in accordance with this unshakable scientific research, the herd of squirrels and psychopaths were provided (and safely distracted) with a gigantic wooden cow-pig-and-chicken shooting catapult.

In the meantime, Sam is still trapped in the classroom. Gotta do something about that.

I tell my garbage men to ring up Cakreut12. "You wanna do a job for me?"

"Eeeee! I get a cameo!" She does a little jig of joy, the tail of her squirrel suit bouncing merrily.

I smile. "Yes, yes you do. You also get a huge cheese-mallet, plated titanium armor, and rocket shoes. Get the mallet to Sam." I wave to one of my guys, dispatching him to deliver the items.

"Awesome." There's scuffling on the other end of the line. I see a shadow on the grass--the silhouette of a catapult in action.

"Whadja launch?"

"Ishiyama's car. We thought we'd get creative."

Through the camera, I see the shadow of the car hurtling through the air. I really hope it isn't going where I think it's going. "Hey, where's it going to land?"

Cakreut squints up at the sky. "Um, I think it's heading for a tree…"

Crap. Crap crap crap.

**_CRUNCH._**

I pull the headphones off my ears as thirty-odd fangirls screech into the headset. "DANNNEEEEEE!"

"Argh!" Danny, revealed by his car-crushed tree, phases out and jets into the school. The squirrels and psychopaths rush after him, jumping pathetically against the side of the school before dashing around for the door.

"EEEEEEEE!" they squeal.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. "Crazy fangirls. Hey Cakreut, you got the stuff."

"Uh yeah. The rocket-shoes are fantastic, by the way… But _I_ wanted to follow Danny _too_…"

"The only person who's even going to get _near_ Danny is Sam. Free her, follow her, and you'll find Danny." And speaking of Sam…

I click off Cak's frequency and pull up a camera, just to make sure our lovable vegetarian hasn't killed anybody yet. She hasn't, but it looks like I've intervened just in time.

"We say all animals are retarded," declares a psycho. Sam, currently duct-taped to a chair, glares daggers at the guy.

"Well, I say you're retarded. What do you people want with Danny, anyway?"

Psycho gets starry-eyes. "We want to kiss him…"

"And give him foot-massages…" adds another.

"And RULE THE WORLD!"

"Yeah! WORLD DOMY-NATION!" they cheer.

If Sam could have put her head in her hands, she would have. "Rrrrr…."

The building shudders from the impact of a large pig. A moment later, it shudders again from the impact of Cakreut12.

Plaster blasts from the ceiling as something shiny and silver busts through the ceiling and crashes to the floor. "Weapons delivery!" Cak slices through Sam's duct tape with one sharp edge of the armor and shoves the heavy cheese-mallet into her hands. The handle is wooden, but the crushing part is made of one big round of parmesan cheese.

Sam sticks out her tongue. "Ewww…" Cak giggles and pantomimes the action of smashing things. Sam's mouth forms a startled 'O' of dawning comprehension. She gives the psychos a sneaky look.

"Um…" mumble the wide-eyed psychos.

**_WHAM!_** goes Sam's mallet.

She hurries out into the hall, shouting for Danny. I keep the camera on the psychos a moment longer. Their faces have made some interesting shapes on the plaster walls, but it looks like they'll be okay. Nevertheless, I send out two more of my lackeys to provide them with some stun-power light sabers. Not enough to hurt, but more than enough to melt the cheese. No sense in making it an unfair fight.

XXX

Sam is dashing through the halls, clutching her heavy cheesy mallet of vengeance in one hand. In spite of her professed pacifism, she looks like she could send a Great White swimming for its mother.

I flip idly through the cameras and wonder, vaguely, if I've crossed a line somewhere. But that's ridiculous. My staff is made of garbage men, my audience loves to launch cows into orbit, and my 'special guests' are consistently being attacked/smooched/pummeled with any and every type of object known to man, and several that, before this show, probably weren't. This is just business as usual.

Maybe I should consider a job at the bookstore…

XXX

Sam's boots thump on the school's linoleum tiling. The psycho's sneakers patter after her down the halls. Squirrels and psychos, fresh from the barnyard-animal/car launching, shuffle around in the general direction that Danny supposedly went. Danny himself, predictably, is jetting through the halls in search of Sam and Tucker. Through some kind of amazing, incredible coincidence, they're all headed for the same junction in the hallways.

"Can't miss _this_!" I grab my burgundy sport jacket off the back of my leather wheely chair and tell the garbage men to keep an eye on things. I want to be there in person for this particular impending collision.

Dashing out of the janitor-closet-base I run into the herd of psycho/squirrel people.

"Which way?" they shout.

"Just keep on going down this hall. You'll find 'im!" I press a button on my watch and rockets pop out of my boots. The squirrels stare in confusion. I grin at them. "What, you don't think I'd let Cak have _all_ the fun with the rockets?" I push the flaming foot-jets into gear. "Ciao!"

Arriving at the intersection seconds ahead of the others, I take up a relatively inconspicuous pose against a bank of lockers. As an afterthought, I pull a lollypop out of my jacket and stick it, thoughtfully, in my mouth.

I wave at Danny as he arrives at the four-way intersection. His eyes flare as he catches sight of my smirking mug.

"YOU!"

I shake my head. "Nuh-uh. You want to worry about _them_." I thumb the hall behind him, where twenty or thirty shrieking fangirls bust out, reaching to grab him. Danny jerks away, about to run.

I shake my head at him. "What? You're not going to wait for Sam?" Right on cue, Samantha Manson rounds the corner in all her nostril-flaring cheese-mallet-bearing glory. She stops in her tracks, seeing the floating ghost boy.

"They're right behind me!"

"Argh! Me too!" Danny dodges the leaping grasps of my overly enthusiastic audience. The squirrels and psychos are starting to get feisty with each other, but there's a general consensus among them that Danny needs to be brought closer to the ground.

Danny catches my eye and shakes his fists. I shrug innocently and make a smooching noise around my lollypop. Good thing there's other people distracting him. It looks like he'd really like to take a few shots at me. Fortunately for all concerned, Danny doesn't have time for that. But he does have time to look over fearfully at Sam, who's whacking away at the psychos like a farmer during reaping season trying to keep them off Danny.

He floats clear of the ruckus and calls, tentatively, "Sam…"

"What? What's wrong?" A psycho squawks as she plows into it with her round of parmesean.

He does this little hand-wringing thing. It's soooo cute.

"Ummm… You remember, uh, that one time, in the park, with Valerie…"

Sam is beginning to sense that things are about to get a lot weirder. "Yeah…"

"And we did that whole uh, 'fake-out make-out' thing…" He does the little quoty things with his fingers. I'm evil, and I really should be feeling guilty about all this, but oh man is it ever fun to watch.

Sam holds her mallet a little less confidently. "Yeah…"

"Well, um… I mean…" The dude turns PINK. You could grow plants by the light of Danny's face it's so red. He wipes a hand across his forehead and braces himself. "I mean, HEY everybody, look at me!" As one, the audience turns it psychotic, squirrely, or otherwise odd-looking eyes to Danny. Our Hero forces a smile, and—after making sure he's got everybody's attention (he does)—swoops down and locks lips with Sam. The audience sucks every molecule out of the spacious Casper High with its enormous, collective, gasp. My lollypop even falls out of my mouth.

Sam was ready for it, more or less, but mostly less. She looks like she's kissing a brick wall; Danny looks like he's kissing a flaming reptile.

Tucker bounds in and, upon surveying the arena, looks like he's been hit with a brick wall thrown by a flaming reptile. "WHOA, DID I **MISS **SOMETHING!"

With that, the spell breaks. Danny and Sam gasp and jump away from each other. Danny turns back to human. My and the rest of the audience reach down and scrap our jaws off the floor. Danny and Sam try with absolutely zero success to act normal around each other, making many semi-apologetic gestures and mumbled excuses. The excuses die out, and while the others look at Tucker, from the corner of my eye I see Danny go ghost and phase the two of them out of sight.

"Seriously. Who are you people, what are you doing, and _what infernal power did you use on my friends to make them _smooch_ each other_."

"Blackmail," I explain.

Tucker rolls his eyes. "You went through all that just to make those two kiss?"

"Pretty much."

"Then you can go now. Please," he says. "Those squirrel suits… they freak me out." Tucker backs away slowly, heading back down the way Danny and Sam went.

I laugh and lead the audience back to the bat-cave/janitor's closet base for desuiting, debugging, and some delicious refreshments.

XXX

I sigh, clapping the dust off my hands. "Well, I'd say that was the roaring success." My garbage men nod in agreement. The party has ended, the audience has gone back to the mystical world of 'Real Life,' and all that's left is to pack things up and head on back to the (hopefully, by now) reconstructed studio. I flip through my cameras one last time, looking back nostalgically on the injured livestock, structural damage, and general unsightly disaster my audience managed to wreak on this unsuspecting high school campus.

Hel-lo, what's this?

Danny and Sam pop up on the monitors. They're up on the roof, and from the way human-mode Danny is checking the place out, it looks like they've just got there. Fortunately he doesn't see the camera, which is cleverly disguised as a radio antenna. (Still don't know how the garbage guys managed that trick.) I lean forward, adjusting the volume.

"Look," he says. "I'm really, really sorry about that. That whole thing was planned by that crazy talk-show girl."

"Yeah, I know, I saw that little executive back in the school." I ignore the insults for the grander purpose of illegal snoopery.

Danny rubs the back of his head uncomfortably. "So, you're not mad or anything? She said that was the only way to get everybody to leave…"

"No, I understand." Their eyes meet for a second.

Danny looks away, scuffing the gravel roof with the toe of his shoe. Sam bites her lip, leaning just a little too far to the left, bumping shoulders with Danny. He looks down at her, a little puzzled, but she covers it up with a loud declaration of how awkward the kiss was.

Danny chuckles. "Yeah, that's for sure."

"I mean, that would never happen like, naturally, with us, would it?" Sam looks up at him, a questioning kind of smile on her face.

Danny is gradually picking up on the fact that he's being tested. "Oh yeah, _definitely_ not." This denial is also obviously exaggerated.

Sam looks up at Danny, her eyes a slightly embarrassed, tentative question. Danny doesn't look away, and slowly, very slowly, he steps closer to her and—with a final awkward hesitation—they close the distance and kiss like perfectly normal, loving human beings. They both melt a little bit after the first second or two, and Danny brings his arms up around her.

So cute… "Awwwwwwww…"

The garbage men look over at me and shake their heads.

"Philistines." I reach over and politely click off the monitor, leaving the two in privacy. "You garbage people are clever, but ya just don't understand us fangirls."

Then again, who does?

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all my loyal viewers and reviewers. Hope you all liked this!  



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